Fighter
by NortonFight
Summary: A lot can change in 7 years.
1. Prologue

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I do not.**

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**EmPOV**

I love my wife, really, truly, I do. But I will never understand why she refuses to buy a subscription of Cosmo. Instead, every time there is a new issue, I am sent out to get it for her and endure the pitying glances of every male who happens to be in the store at the time. Actually, fuck it, I don't really care that I'm whipped.

I just care because I think it has to do with Jasper. She thinks he's going to slip and we'll end up changing addresses again anyway, so no point in a subscription. They got to start giving that boy some credit - poor guy, ever since he took a shot at Bella, he's been beating himself up and we're not helping. Don't even get me started on Alice and Edward's little self-pity parties.

Then there is Bella. Where the hell did that girl go? We know she's not dead; she can't be, no way, no how. Last Alice saw of her she was packing up her clothes, then nothing. She doesn't want to be found, she _decided_ to never be found.

She'd be 24 now. It's an eerie feeling, being connected to humanity. We expect her to grow up, but I don't know…I guess I already saw her as my little sister, to imagine her being physically older than me…it's weird.

Edward spent a long time looking for her, but gave up when he found out some Quileute boy had run off with her and went back to sulking and worrying at different intervals. Ever seen a century old vampire throw a hissy fit or have a break down? I have, a few times now in fact. Alice on the other hand seems to be resigned to it.

To be honest, I think Alice must have been watching Bella during that first year. She seems to understand why Bella ran off. It's so unlike the Bella we knew, she must have changed a lot. She was always so responsible and cautious and-

…

_It's her. HOLY FUCK IT'S HER!_

**BPOV – 9 months later**

Losing your chance at forever can really adjust your view of time. If you have forever, what's the rush?

I did not have forever. Worse still, I had the knowledge that it was once a possibility.

I decided I could work with the fact that I'd lost time. What I couldn't get over was the loss of _the reason_ why I wanted to have so much time. To share it, with him–

_Edward._

God, just thinking his name still makes my chest constrict and ache painfully.

I had lost my chance at forever, and I'd given up on ever falling in love again. But I had a newfound respect for my life_time_. I don't have much of it. This was my life and it's short. I'd mourned long enough, Christ; I'd been a fucking zombie a year, even my detached father had noticed. I had decided that it was time for me to suck it up and experience _everything_.

After all, I was in a rush.

I'm 25 now and the things I have experienced in the last 6 or so years are absolutely absurd. No, I mean it. If you simply heard the rundown of it, the summary, it sounds like a whole load of far-fetched nonsense.

But I am Isabella Marie Swan, former vampire pet, and if there is trouble, I'm there – whether I want to be or not…

Twenty five years old and I'm standing in an ancient stadium, hundreds of vampires cheering from the crowds, an influx of the scum and shadows of the earth, all congregated in my new home, Volterra, all here to watch an antiquated tradition - a gladiator tournament.

How did I get here? Fuck if I know…might have something to do with the mutt who tagged along with me when I left after Senior Year. Who am I kidding?

I fucking love this. I _live_ for this. Ironically, one way or another, I'll _die_ for this.

There are twenty of us and so far, I'm the favorite. Eventually there will be 10 of us and we'll all be changed and unleashed on each other as volatile newborns for the entertainment of the masses. It's going to be a motherfucking bloodbath.

**EPOV – 1 month prior**

It's been eight months since Emmett came home with his surprise. I finally found Jacob. Raw white-hot fury ran through me, he would pay for what he has done.

I was standing on the reserve, apparently Jacob had returned only weeks ago and without her. I knew this meant the treaty was broken but I couldn't bring myself to care. I only cared about one thing. And that one thing had four long gruesome scars slanted across her left breast. Apparently the werewolf gene had made a reappearance.

I could see a light on in the kitchen of the tiny bungalow. Without a plan I ran for the door and crashed into his house. Not a second later a mammoth of a wolf tore around the corner and we collided.

I grabbed the mutt by the scruff of his neck and threw him across the kitchen table. Scrambling he righted himself and barrelled into me, the refrigerator exploded beneath us, I slammed Jacob to the ground and vaguely noticed a can of pop roll away and fizz over the floor, over the…tiny feet…of a little brown eyed girl wearing a bright yellow bandana.

_Jesus Christ. _

"Daddy?"

I was transfixed by her; I hardly realized the shape beneath me once again became human until I heard his tired voice respond.

"Yes baby, everything is alright. Go back to sleep, okay sweetheart?"

Oh God, _oh God_! I rolled off Jacob and clutched at my hair, the pressure under my eyes was unbearable. Where is she?

"What are you doing here leech?" I felt him shove against my shoulder, his voice coming out in a hiss. I pulled the folded up piece of paper out of my jean pocket and threw it at him.

It was wrinkled and torn but I remember the picture as clear and crisp as the day I first saw it. A magazine cover, Emmett's surprise. I was livid when I saw it, but I'm not sure what part pissed me off the most.

The fact that she was on the cover of Maxim, the four parallel scars that were apparently her trademark_, Goddammit_, the fact that the interviewer called them sexy, her lack of clothing or the hand reached down to cup her sex? The kicker had to be the fact that that hand didn't belong to her; it belonged to the woman straddling the chair behind her. A woman they referred to as her number one competition - Gina Carano.

My sweet innocent Bella is a mixed martial arts specialist. Emmett found some of her matches. There aren't words to describer her, but I'll try. She's smaller than the other girls, her body is geared more towards speed than strength, and she's quick. She's _graceful_. I can't describe the sense of horror I felt watching my Bella straddled over another woman, fists raining down and blood everywhere, brutal violence. The ringside physician ended up declaring her opponent unfit to continue.

What happened to her?

Now I hear she's been missing for months, all her future matches cancelled, much to Emmett's dismay. I have to find her; I have to know why –

Why does she have a criminal record, filled with charges like "assault", "battery", "trespass", "vandalism" and "disturbing the peace", all related to incidents of street fighting.

Why does she insists on racing motorcycles in her free time?

She promised. She PROMISED that she would stay safe! Now I find out she's been brawling around like some savage, speeding when her bones can break, exposing herself to a world of strangers and running around with a rabid dog. I cringe to think of all the things I don't know about.

And all this time…all this time did she have a daughter?

I want to be sick.

**JPOV**

I fucking hate this guy.

I know he is sitting there wrapped up in his own little pity party.

_Oh woe is me, the best thing that ever happened to me moved on to a something that might be even worse than I am._

What is that something? Her idea of a "fulfilled life". It's bullshit.

But I owe her my life a thousand times over and I can't pretend to be naïve. I can't pretend it wasn't completely logical that she ended up where she did. A sick part of me is relieved to have the nightmare over with.

Jesus, can vampires go into comas? He's been sitting on my kitchen floor staring at the ground for 47 minutes now. My pack came and left and he didn't even notice.

This is between him and me now. He needs to know what he did to her.

God, what _I_ did to her.

"How old is she?" _Finally, Dracula awakens._ He snorts. Shit. Forgot he was a mind reader. Well, he's going to have to pull some teeth to hear this tragedy. Wait, who is he talking about?

"Your daughter."

"Anabelle is three and a half years old. What's it to you?" I can't help but growl.

"Where is…where is her mother?"

"Sarah is at my dad's place making sure he gets his dinner."

His head snaps up and his gaze is intense. What the hell is his deal?

"Then where is Bella?"

_With your feet in the air and your head on the ground  
Try this trick and spin it, yeah  
Your head will collapse  
But there's nothing in it  
And you'll ask yourself  
Where is my mind-_

In the blink on an eye Edward's fists are curled around my collar, his face a mere inch from my own, "ENOUGH!"

His anger set off my own and I could feel myself shaking. Fuck, I can't wake Anabelle up again. I shove at his chest until he's backing through the door. We're going to do this, once and for all. And if there is one thing I've learned from my time with Bella, it's that words really do hurt more than violence. I was going to make this excruciating.

"YOU KILLED HER! SHE IS NEVER COMING BACK. AND YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU WOULDN'T RECOGNIZE HER IF SHE DID BECAUSE OF WHAT YOU DID TO HER."

I can feel a grim smile on my face as he recoils from the force of my words. But I'm not finished. My voice is a quiet, vicious whisper.

"Yeah, you saw the scars, I know what I did Edward, I don't need you to beat me up for it. But at least the damage I did was just on the surface! And she thought _I _would leave! She thought I'd be a coward like you, that because I hurt her, I would _make up for it_ by leaving! What the fuck is that you sick son of a bitch? I've seen the scar on her arm, those are fucking teeth marks and I don't care if they're yours or not - that was your fault!"

I'm breathing hard now, fighting to keep the tremors isolated to my hands.

"I stayed. I wanted to make up for it with my own natural version of forever, but you ruined her for anyone else. Then I go and fucking imprint, I can't even promise her unrequited love. I can't give my life to her, even if she won't have it. I couldn't fix her. I got to stand by and watch her self-destruct. I lost control for the first time and scarred her after _screaming_ at her to let _you_ go! And that Maxim feature? She did that for Anabelle! I can't save her and still she degrades herself to pay for my daughter's medical bills. She loved Sarah like a sister and she loved Anabelle like her own. Don't you think that is the kind of person that deserves love? That _deserved a choice_?"

Edward is standing under the dim light of the porch, frozen stiff and starring at me with wide eyes. He doesn't know anything.

As much as I want to walk back into my home and hold my wife until sleep claims me, this all needs to be said. He needs to take responsibility for what has happened. I know I can't help her anymore, this is it. This is the last thing I will do for Bella.

And it will never be enough.

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	2. Chapter 1

**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight. I do not.**

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**BPOV**

It was my 19th birthday and my gift to myself was escape. I needed to escape Forks, the memories, the pitying looks, and my hollow shell. Heck, I needed to escape Jake. Nothing makes you realize your heart is shattered like your incapability to love again and that boy rubs it in my face. He's so warm_, literally_, and perfect and I feel…nothing.

I told Charlie I was leaving, because I'm not the kind of girl to just run away, and the man didn't even protest, didn't even ask me where I was going. Can't blame him, I've given him no reason to hope. I'm a lost cause.

The least I can do is give him his freedom back, the freedom to move on from his messed up daughter and estranged wife. Sue is wonderful, really, exactly the kind of take charge woman that a man like my father needs.

Her daughter is a total bitch, but having heard her sob story from Jake, I feel a pathetic kinship with her.

I need to escape that too.

Seth is great though and he's one of the few who can make Leah tolerable. I think he's her sun, like Jake is to me, the contagious optimist. I wish Jake would realize I just see him as a brother though…I can't stand his fucking puppy dog eyes anymore.

Did I mention I've developed an attitude?

All part of survival baby, came alive again 6 months ago to looks so pitying I could hardly endure it. So I took a page from Leah's How to Survive Being the Woman Scorned for Dummies book and turned into a massive bitch. It's the only way to deal with your emotions without being the innocent victim of Fork's sympathy.

I'm quite fond of this attitude adjustment. It comes with some interesting territory. I had to tweak my performance a bit. If you're the bitchy girl with the hoodie over her head, you're motivation is obvious and the pity doesn't stop. So I developed confidence, or rather, I faked it until I made it. Tight pants, tight shirts, and tight muscles to pull it off, plus the endorphins really help with the bad moods.

Anyways, as I was saying, I've made a decision. I don't have enough money or motivation to go to school, and I don't want to sit around Forks for the rest of my life. I'm leaving and I'm taking my clothes, my savings and my truck. I'm going to get a job and some crummy apartment, I'm going to do a bunch of crazy shit just because I promised the bastard that I wouldn't, plus I'm going to die anyways.

I'm going to live my life to it's fucking fullest.

Take _that _Forks.

Wonder where the old man is...ah never mind, not like I told him when I'd be leaving, and neither of us are good at goodbyes anyways…

_What the fuck is he doing here?_

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Well said, Bella.

"I'm coming with you."

"The hell you are! Get out of my truck." I stand there tapping my toe on the gravel, waiting patiently for the big, bronze lug of my best friend to get out. I glance to the bed of the truck and see a duffel bag stuffed to the point where the zipper is straining. Dear Lord, he really does intend to come with me.

"Now Bella," Goddammit, he's using that let's-be-reasonable voice on me, "I feel like I'm _meant_ to go with you."

"How did you even know I was going to leave? I just told Charlie this morning and I didn't even tell him when I was planning on actually leaving!"

"He called Billy."

Huh. Maybe this is tearing the old guy up more than I thought.

Dang. I didn't want to hurt anyone…

"As for knowing when, I just know you and how quickly you act on your impulses. Remember the cliff diving incident?"

I give him a dark look, "Could you please just let that go?"

His eyes go all bulgy, "Bella! You almost drowned!"

Pfft, whatever.

Like I said to that Cullen boy, my number has been up for a long time.

…It helps to refer to him by diminutive names.

"What about Billy? Your dad needs you Jake, more than I do."

He shifted uncomfortably. Got you there, didn't I smart-ass.

"The boys will look after him."

"Jake…" I gave him my most disapproving look, like Ms. Copp would give me when I'd nearly maim my fellow students in gym. I still remember the day I threw a bitch fit on her.

My thesis was rather poignant.

I have two fucking left feet and tripping over Lauren's overused, saggy labia could happen to anyone.

Check. Mate.

Maybe one of the most awful things to have ever left my mouth, but I think even Jesus would agree that Lauren had it coming in spades.

She was the worst.

My favorite of hers had to be, "Don't worry Bella, I bet in college you'll get lots of pity sex."

How many times did I want to answer with 'that's okay Lauren. I'm already fucking your dad'? Something was bound to slip out eventually. The suspension was totally worth it. Of course, I compromised any chance at getting into Dartmouth.

"Bella. I just…_feel_…like this is something I have to do. I sold the rabbit and the boss and left the money for my dad. He'll be fine."

The 1970 Boss 302 was a panty dropper on wheels. I should know since it was on the hood of that car that I swiped my V-Card. Lost it so Sam's cousin, Hector, brawny and sexy as hell, but considering his fucking style, the rabbit might have been a more appropriate setting.

The girl part of me wishes it had been Jake my first time. But for his sake, I couldn't do it. It wouldn't be fair since if I was going live a fairytale, he'd actually be a distant second. Jake deserves to be a girl's first choice, not a consolation prize.

"He can hire help when he really needs it." Lughead's still blabbering away, "The man isn't entirely dependent on me you know. Besides, you know Emily coddles him."

Of course she does. Emily is Mother fucking Theresa.

I can see he's not going to relent. Fine, I'll bring the bitch along, and when he sees how I plan on living, he'll be running back to daddy in no time. We can do this if he really wants to.

Without another word I jump in and start the engine. …Maybe having a mechanic as a passenger might not be such a bad idea.

Fuck these pants are tight. I undo the button and the movement draws Jake's perpetually lustful gaze. Too bad I'd be fucking him over if I actually fucked him. The boy's grown so much I could swear he's on steroids, of course, he's as confused by it as I am, so maybe I'm wrong…

"You should try out for the Pussycat Dolls, you already have the leather pants for it."

I snorted, "Please, I'm not the kind of girl to use her body to make cash."

Turns out, I'm wrong about a few things.

~~*~~*~~*~~

Three weeks later we're holed up in a loft style, one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, sharing a bed and working full time jobs. I somehow managed to get a job at a bar and if I don't want to get fired, I'm going to have to learn some grace. According to my boss, a skeezy middle-aged Russian man, it's my 'fine ass and perky tits' that keep me in the bakery. He forgot to mention my fake I.D. As for Jake, he works normal hours as a mechanic. Wakes me up each morning before he goes to work. How? Every single fucking time his alarm goes off he automatically curls into me, trying to avoid waking up for a few more minutes, and his goddamn morning wood pokes me in the ass, jarring me out of sleep like his alarm couldn't. Let me tell you, his junk is not something you can ignore.

Four weeks in, we have a mice problem. Five weeks, Jake starts getting weird phone calls from home, saying he should come back in case he has some genetic disorder that a bunch of his friends have and needs help. When he asked what it was, they couldn't explain it. Weirdest fucking thing ever. Although it could explain why I keep waking up sweating because sleeping with Jake is like cuddling up to a furnace. Not that he minds the tiny excuse for pajamas I've started wearing in order to keep cool.

Six weeks in…six weeks in, a guy at the bar grabs my ass and my life changes forever.

I would describe the moment to you, if it were special or different or really even memorable. But the truth was, I'd been pinched, prodded and downright smacked ever since I started working for Trevlin. At first I complained, I told him to make sure his goddamn patrons keep their dirty paws off me or I'd give one of them what they have coming. Trevlin laughed it off, told me it came with the territory so if I wanted space, I should become an astronaut, clever guy, I know, but he failed to take my threat seriously.

Like I said before, I'd been working out, and while I wasn't buff, I was fit. A small fist can apply an alarmingly concentrated amount of force. There's a reason why a bullet is so small. Asshole number 142 learned that when I broke his nose.

It was beautiful, there was no arc like you'd think there'd be, I wasn't going for the side of his ear or anything. Instead it was like a piston, pull back, propel forward and the shockwaves primarily impacting the neck. Beautiful, violent, raw.

The best part about it - I'd hurt myself so much over the last year, since with Edward gone I had become increasingly reckless, that the blood didn't even faze me. Oh, and Trevlin gave me a pay raise, said angry hot chicks draw in customers. I felt like a lioness for the first time in my life. Only I was caged in and observed by curious visitors, pinched, prodded and smacked more than ever.

That night, drunk on adrenaline and the release, I stayed out. I went to the slums of the city because I could, because I wasn't scared and I had nothing to live for, because I was ready to fight back, if only for the sake of having something to fight for – the win, the victory, the satisfaction, the independence, the me vs. the world and the loneliness that is lost to instinct. I wasn't about to start a fight, but hopefully one would find me, trouble usually does. But wouldn't you know it? No one bothered me and in the morning, I went on my merry way, cold, tired and crashing down from my high. Not to mention my hand hurt like a bitch.

Jake freaked on me when I got home, his arms started shaking and everything. That guy is definitely on something. He thought I spent the night with someone. While that assumption would save me a lot of trouble, I just didn't have it in me to hurt Jake like that, to be so brutally insensitive to him. He still doesn't know of my less than pure ways and what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

I still hadn't talked to my parents and Jake hadn't told Billy a thing, not about where we were, what we were doing, anything. It felt completely liberating- scary, exhilarating and my own. It was my best-case scenario and I hated it because it wasn't what I wanted. What I wanted was out of reach, living God knows where.

The next week I got into a bar fight with a coed. Apparently it was her boyfriend who I had recently fucked on top of the bar. Smug bastard stood in the background wide eyed with a smile threatening to break through when his girl took a swing at me. Now she actually swung her arm, so when I ducked she went spinning around like an idiot so I kicked her in the back. Maybe it was a cheap shot but it's becoming obvious that I am not averse to fighting dirty. Anyways, it's her boyfriend she should be mad at, not me. It's not like I knew anything about him besides the fact that he seemed to have an extensive mental library of horrible pick up lines. He wasn't drunk and he certainly wasn't talking about any girlfriend. I gave her time to get up and come charging back at me. I ended up with 18 stitches in my back from the broken glass, some nice complimentary scars to the one on my arm. Ironically enough the majority of the brawl took place on the exact surface where her boyfriend ate me out. Trevlin paid for the damages to his bar without comment. As for the coed, a suddenly concerned boyfriend carried her off.

A month later I met Jace and the events set in motion six weeks earlier finally snowballed. That was the point of no return.

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End file.
